


monachopsis

by Renegadedaiz



Category: ARK: Survival Evolved
Genre: F/M, Gen, Is this fandom even alive?, Rating will probably change, Work In Progress, dilos are dumb but cute, i know that’s not how taming works but let’s pretend, more tags to be added eventually, upload now and edit later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29017803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renegadedaiz/pseuds/Renegadedaiz
Summary: monachopsis- noun;  the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach—lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you’d be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home.Loneliness is an awkward feeling when you’re not sure how it feels, she decides.Do all survivors feel like this? She doesn’t remember being alone before.A story of a tribe coming together, falling apart - of loneliness and feeling like you belong.
Kudos: 3





	monachopsis

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Ark gameplay done on a server forever ago, between four friends when things went south and suddenly friends become acquaintances become memories. 
> 
> Creative liberties taken with characters and events. 
> 
> Title taken from Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. 
> 
> Formatting is probably off because I’m currently at work and posting on mobile - ayyyy, I’ll fix and edit it later. Enjoy the brain dump.

She wakes up.

The first thing she notices is that the sun is bright. The second thing is that her arm itches. She goes to scratch and notices the implant in her left forearm. She frowns, looks closer. This time, it’s red.

She closes her eyes and falls back onto the sand. Before, she and people, she can’t remember their names or faces, were fighting something...but she can’t remember what or why. All that she remembers is that she was in the heat of the battle with her best bred line, fighting to the death. A cry of pain, anger, worry, her best bred Rex roaring in agony, then a loud, high pitched, screeching scream that was not hers echoed through her ears. There was a bright, colorful light, a screeching sound, and when she woke again, she was alone and almost naked on a beach she didn’t quite remember.

She glances at her clothing. A raggedy hide bra and a raggedy hide pair of underwear - no real protection from anything except embarrassment. Somehow, she feels like this is nothing new, like she’s done this before. Still, some clothing would be nice, if only to prevent sunburns in unpleasant places.

She sighs and shakes her head. _Worrying about it now will do no good_ , she thinks, surveying the beach around her. The ocean is endless. The water is clear. Palm trees and boulders, along with several fallen logs and loose stones dot the shore. There’s a small islet with a lone palm tree across from the shore. The water is ankle deep. The beach itself is a small, almost hidden cove, with slopes leading into the plains and forests above, and the Dodos are waddling about peacefully. The birds are calling and the waves crash gently on the shore. It’s a relatively safe spot, she thinks.

A quick look at her implant tells her it is 7 in the morning, and she’s in some place called “South West 3.”

She frowns. The area is not one she’s familiar with. She grew up on the Island, knew every twist and curve, every hidden cave and watery trench it could offer. Its ruins were her playgrounds, and later, hunting grounds. This was not her Island, not her South West -- of that much, she is certain.

But that doesn’t matter at the moment. She was born into a tribe of survivors, conquerors of all they deemed fit. This land will be no different, she thinks.

A dodo waddles past her, paying no attention to her or her predicament.

She grins. _Hello, breakfast_.

She spies a fallen palm tree just up the shore, and gets to work gathering enough wood for a spear. With luck, the dodo will have not waddled too far and she can make a quick kill. After a second thought, she gathers a few handfuls of thatch and stone as well.

Crafting was never her strong suit, but she’s satisfied with the makeshift spears she’s made. The wood from the palm log is hard enough to be sharpened into a deadly point, and the small pickaxe she manages to make is more than enough to gather some flint for a small campfire. A look at the implant tells her that it is now 9 a.m. and the temperature is slowly rising.

A game plan forms. Food first. Then fire, then a simple thatch shelter. That should be enough to get her through until the morning. With a satisfied grin and spear in hand, she heads off in search of the Dodo.

It’s a far bit up the slope before she spies the pink, chubby, clueless bird. Crouching low behind a rock, she whispers a small prayer to her gods before she throws her spear. She watches it fly, hoping her aim isn’t as rusty as she thinks.

The bird lets out one lone loud squawk of pain before falling, and she moves quickly to deliver a death blow to the head before it draws attention. A final squawk and then silence once more. Suddenly, she’s alone again.

A pang of loneliness hits her - back home, she would have had tribemates to hunt with. Someone would have cheered with her. Or at least she thinks they would have. Now, she cheers alone. Loneliness is an awkward feeling when you’re not sure how it feels, she decides. Do all survivors feel like this? She doesn’t remember being alone before.

She spears the dodo’s body and begins the trek back to her camp. It doesn’t matter in the end if she’s lonely or not, she thinks. She’s a survivor, a conqueror. That’s what really matters in the end.

She gathers a few pieces of flint from a nearby boulder as she enters her campsite and pauses. Something is wrong here, she notices, but she can’t think of what.

A quick scan tells her what’s wrong - someone has been in her camp. A campfire is placed on the little islet across from her waking point. There’s also a small hut made of thatch on the shore across from the islet. No one appears to be in the hut. This concerns her even more.

Behind her, she hears heavy footsteps.

_Damn_. Luck is not on her side, it seems.

She turns slowly, her pickaxe in one hand, ready to fight.

A man appears from up the slope, spear and various berries in hand. He waves a friendly greeting, raising his hands as if to show he’s harmless.

“Oh, hey! Hello! Is this your campsite? You’re the first person I’ve seen here!”

She eyes him carefully. She doesn’t understand the sounds from his mouth, but she knows his words. The implant in her arm translates them without fail.

“I don’t mean any harm, honestly. It’s just...one minute I was on this floating island, and the next minute, I’m here. You’re the only one I’ve seen, and to be honest, I’m pretty glad to see someone. I’m not one for loneliness.”

_Loneliness_.

There’s that word again. It tastes bitter in her mouth. She doesn’t like it, she decides. Loneliness and her are not friends. She doesn’t think they ever will be. She raises an eyebrow at his mention of the Island. Was it her Island? Probably not. Her Island didn’t float.

“This is where I woke up. It’s a temporary site until I find somewhere better.”

“Oh. You don’t mind that I built a shelter here?”

“No. It’s fine. I was going to do it after my hunt.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome to stay in the hut. It’s big enough for both of us and it smells like a storm is brewing in.”

She considers his offer. She was going to build a shelter and fire, and this would save her time and energy; besides, it’s said that survival is easier if you aren’t alone, or so she’s heard.

She motions to the Dodo in her hand with her pickaxe.

“That sounds fair. Have you eaten? You built shelter and a fire, but have you hunted? I was going to roast some meat and then build a shelter and fire, but it appears you’ve beaten me to it.”

“No. I was heading out to hunt when I saw you heading this way. Thought this may have been where you were headed,” he says with a shrug.

She nods and heads to the campfire, sits down, and begins to pluck the dodo.

“You would have been correct, it seems. Anyway, go. Forage. Or scout. I’ll call when the food is ready.”

“I can he-“

“You can forage. Or scout. I will call you when the food is ready.”

“Fine.”

He sighs and places the berries in a pile, then leaves, and for the moment, she’s alone again with her thoughts.

Two people is not enough for a powerful tribe, but it is enough to survive. Maybe. Back home, things were different. Or were they? This morning, she remembered tribe names and faces and tames. She remembered her parents’ faces and her brother's, and now she remembers only that she was on the Island and was a member of a tribe, but nothing else. No names, no faces. Who was she before? The implant glows as she works, reminding her that she has access to new knowledge.

She lets out a growl of frustration. She remembers nothing about her home or life before this island, but remembers everything about the Implant. How it was grey, green, blue, now red. How it translates everything. How it stores things. How it gives her access to knowledge she didn’t have before. And yet, it tells her nothing about herself except her name.

_Vex_.

She chops angrily at the dodo’s carcass with her pickaxe, tearing off pieces of meat and skewering them as her frustration builds.

Is Vex her name? Or is that something else? She doesn’t know. In the end, she supposes it doesn’t matter. For the moment, she is Vex, a member of this newfound, mismatched tribe of two. Question and answer time can come later. Maybe her new tribe member will have some knowledge she doesn’t.

Finished with the meat, she gathers her materials and sets to work on crafting a hatchet. If she stays, then she needs to be prepared. Wood is a necessity, and the pickaxe is more useful for thatch than it is for her lumber needs. Thatch burns too quickly in the fire. If they’re to survive, wood will be something they’ll need to keep in stock.

Footsteps sound behind her and she pauses, listening carefully. The steps are rapid, but soft. Not the sounds her tribe member made when he left. Was it another random stranger? Someone else who woke up on this beach? Or someone who knows this place?

Or worse - a stranger with intent to conquer? Or kill?

She readies her spear and turns around.

She isn’t expecting what she sees. She is greeted by the sight of a small theropod. Its green skin and white spines glisten in the sun, and it looks at her curiously, tail wagging back and forth as it eyes her cautiously.

She’s no fool. The implant reminds her that this is a dilophosaur, and she knows what dangers the little dinosaur can do. She knows they also tend to hunt in packs. A glance around tells her it’s alone, thankfully. This can possibly go very wrong if she’s not careful.

_Just don’t make it frill_ , she warns herself. _Do not make it frill. Do not make it nervous_.

She moves slowly, grabbing a piece of meat and tossing it to the waiting dino. It cautiously nibbles at the meat, and she breathes a sigh of relief when it doesn’t attack.

“Nice Dilo. Stay calm, that’s good...”

An idea forms in her head. Dilos had some uses back on the Island. They were guard dogs and quick meat run pets. Most tribes had at least one.

Eyeballing a handful of narco berries her tribemate had gathered earlier, she crushes one between her fingers and coats another piece of meat with it.

The Dino looks at her expectantly, and she throws the meat to it. It chomps down happily and lets out a strange coo.

She offers a few more pieces of narcotic meat, and the Dino falls. Soft snores are heard as it breathes slowly and deeply.

The implant reminds her that narco berries can be dangerous. When ingested, they release a poison that if left in the system, can kill. But if a survivor knows what they’re doing, they can fight off the poison with food. The principle applied to dinos as well.

She grabs a few more pieces of meat and sits by the Dilo. The implant tells her it is now noon and her tribemate should be coming back for food soon. There’s enough for him to eat. And enough for her to add another member to their tribe.

The Dilo stirs, makes a sick sounding chirp, and the look in its eyes tells her it’s feeling the effects of the poison. She tears a piece of meat into smaller chunks and slowly, carefully, places the meat into its mouth.

“Eat. It’ll help,” she softly encourages. The dino does as it’s told, and she lets out a small sigh of relief.

The Dilo groggily puts its head in her lap and she pets its head spines carefully. A closer look at the skin shows an emerald green body. The white spines shine like pearls as the noon sun hangs high in the sky. She feeds it another piece of meat, and the Dilo lays its head back down. The snores are no longer sick sounding, and she knows the process is almost done. One more piece should do it.

It opens an eye to look at her, and she offers it another piece. It eats on its own this time, and when it falls back asleep, she moves back to the campfire. When it wakes up, it will be a member of the tribe. Of this much, she is certain.

Keeping an eye on her sleeping friend, she turns her attention on the roasting meat. Carefully, she removes the skewers and sets them aside. The wood was running low. She’d have to gather more before long. A chirp sounded behind her, and she felt the scaly snout nuzzle her shoulder.

“Finally awake, eh?”

A brisk chirping sound answered her as the Dilo cocks its head sideways and looks at her with curiosity.

She raises her left arm and scans the dino with the Implant. A hologram appears, displaying information on her new friend. Dilophosaur, female, age three years.

“Ah. So you’re young. And a female. I suppose we should give you a name, yeah?”

She touches the hologram with her right hand and an option to name the Dilo appears.

“Medusa,” she says, testing the name carefully. The Dilo happily wags her tail and sniffs at the skewers. She frowns and gently taps her on the nose.

“No. You can hunt later. These aren’t ours.”

Medusa rustles her frills but sulks and stomps off, choosing to curl up by the thatch hut’s door and glare at her.

“Sulk all you want. You still can’t have one.”

She checks the time again. It’s 3 p.m. and her tribemate has yet to return. Did he get lost? Was he eaten? Did he decide to leave the tribe?

She begins to worry. Maybe sending him out alone was not the best option.

Medusa cocks her head and lets out a low growl.

“What? Do you hear something?”

The Dilo frills out, hisses angrily as she glares at the slope.

“Let’s go see who‘s there.” She grabs her spear and walks towards the slope’s edge. She can hear footsteps again. They’re human steps, loud and stumbling. Whoever is coming is either very careless about their safety or very dumb. Or injured. She readies her spear and signals to Medusa to stay.

“Easy now, ‘Dusa. Could be our friend coming back hurt.”

A man appears from the side of the slope. He’s not her tribemate. Medusa lowers her head, frills displayed, ready to attack, but she eyes the stranger cautiously, not quite ready to kill without justification.

“Hail, stranger.” Her greeting is sharp, laced with warning.

“A person? There’s a person here? Oh thank the gods. Hello! Hello! Wait. I’ve been running from those damned lizards. I’m not coming down there!”

She puts a hand on Medusa’s back spines and gently strokes them.

“This one is mine. She won’t harm you unless you try to harm us. Who are you, stranger? Are you alright?”

The man eyes Medusa cautiously and slowly makes his way down the slope.

“My name is Faize. I don’t know how I got here or why. All I know is one minute I’m in the desert, and the next minute, I’m waking up on a beach a bit away from here. And I was trying to find out where I was and all of sudden, four of those damned things were chasing me, spitting poison...”

She frowns.

“Four of them? Chasing you? Tell me, did you see another man while you were running here?”

“At least, I think there were four. Could have been more. I don’t know. I was running.”

She repeats herself, concern for her tribemate beginning to take root.

“Eh, another guy? Oh yeah, I did. That psycho just charged right in and told me to head this way to safety. While I was running, he was fighting them off, killing them I think. If he lived or died, I don’t know.”

She sighs and shakes her head. Her tribemate wasn’t very smart. Or he was very bold and a strong warrior. Either way, time would tell. But was he seriously going to send every straggler here?

She motions to the hut with her spear.

“You’ll find safety here. And food. And warmth. It’s not much at the moment, but it’s better than nothing.”

The man, Faize, nods his head.

“I appreciate it. You sure that thing won’t eat me though?”

“Her name is Medusa. She’s a dilophosaur. And a member of my tribe. Insult her again and I make no promises about your safety.”

Medusa lets out a low, menacing growl.

He rubs his head nervously.

“Apologies. It’s just...I’ve not had good experiences with them.”

“No one usually has good experiences with them. But there’s a first time for everything then. Let’s go to the base and you can rest.”

He says nothing, follows her in silence. Medusa continues to growl at him with every other step, but a tap on the nose and a quiet “Enough!” silences her before it spirals out of control.

They reach the hut and she orders Medusa to wait by the camp's edge while she gets the stranger food. He thanks her, then sits in silence and eats. She doesn’t interrupt his meal.

Instead, her mind wanders to her tribemate. It’s almost 5 p.m. This Faize man, he had seen her tribemate earlier. The man was told to forage or scout. Not die. He should have been back around 2, maybe 3 p.m. Where was he? He was fighting Dilo. Did he survive? Was he injured? Dead?

The implant reminds her that had he died, she’d have known. Tribe data in her Implant shows he's still alive. So where is he then? Should she leave the newcomer to fend for himself while she looks for him? Medusa wouldn’t know who to hunt for, and the newcomer would panic if left alone with her.

She sighs in frustration. Her hands were tied, it seems.

Medusa lets out a growl and both she and Faize turn their attention to camp’s edge.

Her tribemate is slowly walking back, a concerned look on his face. She walks over to where Medusa stands, frills out and head lowered to attack.

“He’s one of us. It’s fine,” she murmurs to the Dilo, giving her a reassuring pat on the head.

“What the hell is that? When did we get that?”

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I was scouting and foraging, like you said to.”

She gives him a glare, crosses her arms. “It’s almost 5 p.m. You should have been back hours ago.”

“Well, I would have but it was a little heavy.”

He moves his left forearm forward, summons that inventory space in his implant with a simple gesture, and shows her.

Meat, meat, and more meat is in his space, followed by berries and hide and fiber. Someone has been very busy, it seems.

“I see. Taking on a pack of Dilo by yourself though?”

“I was bored. Thought we could use the meat, too. And he needed help. Did he make it here?”

She points to the campfire where Faize sits, eating and eyeing the two of them carefully.

“He’s eating. He’s fine.”

“Good. Now. Who is that beside you?”

She strokes the Dilo’s neck spines lovingly, and Medusa lets out a happy chirp as she arches her back.

“Her name is Medusa. She’s a dilophosaur. I tamed her this morning. She’s one of us now. She’s been quite useful in protecting the camp.”

He nods in approval.

“Nice. I like her. Let’s go put some more meat on, and then introduce ourselves.”

She rolls her eyes and turns toward the base, Medusa and her tribemate following close behind.

“This tribe sure has a backwards way of doing things,” she mutters. She doesn’t know who these people are, but they’ve become her people. Might as well get to know them. Her stomach growls and she finds she can’t argue with his plan. Overhead, thunder begins to rumble, low and loud. He laughs as she eyes the sky, giving the grey clouds an angry glare. 

“Told you it smelled like a storm was coming in.”

She says nothing, simply marches past him, leaving him behind as he walks slowly, struggles to keep up from the encumbrance of his hunt. She prays to the gods that it comes a downpour that soaks him to the bone and smirks as she feels the first raindrop. Perhaps things would be okay on this island after all.

* * *

The campfire is dying, but the hut is warm. Outside, the skies cry angrily, thunder booming and waves crashing in rage as the storm surges. The three plus dinosaur sit around the fire, no words shared. Each lost in thought, memories, emotions. For a group of three, loneliness hangs heavily in the air.

The tribe member, whose name she does not know, finally breaks the silence.

“So, my name is Wes, and I’m from a floating Island in the sky. Who are you folks?”

His question is friendly, but is heavy, laced with more questions she does not know the answers to. The other speaks first.

“I’m Faize. I was in the desert, and now I’m here.”

Wes shakes his head and gives a soft “hmm.”

“That’s a rough change for sure, man.”

Both look at her, expecting an answer. She frowns. Medusa raises her head from her lap and stares at the men, almost as if daring them to push the issue. She gently scratches the dilo’s frills and shrugs.

“I don’t really know my name. The implant tells me my name is Vex, so I guess that’s me. I don’t remember much about before I woke up here, except there was an island and an endless sea and horizon.”

She pauses, trying to remember details about her life before here, before she met them.

“I remember fighting _something._ I don’t remember what. I know I bred some strong Rex. I remember we were fighters. And I remember I was part of a tribe, a _strong_ tribe. But...I remember nothing and no one else. There was a scream, a light, and I was here," she says, willing her voice to not break. She's angry, she's lonely, and this is not her home. 

They’re silent for a moment, before Wes speaks.

“I remember a large monkey,” he says. “A fight. There were...quite a few of us, but I don't think I really knew them. I remember a deafening roar and pain. Then a sudden, bright light and I was here.”

“I remember the desert. And I remember going with someone to a desert cavern area. There was something flying and something coming out of the ground. I remember a scream and those lights, and then I was here, too,” Faize quietly adds.

She says nothing, thinking over their words carefully. All three of them heard screams and saw the lights, and were in fights.

A thought comes, and it’s one she doesn’t exactly enjoy.

“Did we die?” Faize asks, and she takes a small comfort in knowing she isn’t the only one thinking that.

“If this is the afterlife, then the gods are cruel indeed.” Wes’ tone is low, bitter anger filling the last words.

She finds comfort in Medusa, takes a moment and listens to the storm raging, feels the warmth of the fire, the comforting weight of the small dinosaur’s head in her lap. Feels the dry, smooth facial frills and bumpy, raised spine frills, and breathes in slowly, smelling the salty ocean breeze.

This. This is real.

She’s not dead. _This is proof_ , she tells herself.

She tells them as well.

“We can feel, touch, taste, smell, hear. This isn’t the afterlife. This is life.”

“Care to explain what this place is then?”

She narrows her eyes at Faize’s statement.

“I’m just as lost as you, but I know this isn’t the afterlife. This place is alive and real, and so are we. The implants are proof. If we were dead, would we still have these,” she gestured angrily to her left forearm, red tinged Implant faintly glowing, “doing whatever the hell they do? Would we still need them?”

He glares at her, and she glares back, daring him to say something.

It is Wes who breaks the tension.

“I remember mine being gray before.”

He traces his implant with his finger, around the edges once, twice, three times before he stops to speak again.

“Then it was green. Then blue...this time it’s red. But I don’t remember anything else about the time before that.”

She eyes her implant as he speaks, notices the faint glow and the tell-tale sign that the implant has more knowledge for her to learn.

“Mine was gray, green, blue, now red, too,” Faize confirms.

She breaks the silence, asking the one question they all have.

“What happens after red?”


End file.
